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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25691680">Jacob have I loved, but Esau have I hated.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/tillyenna/pseuds/tillyenna'>tillyenna</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Men's Hockey RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Abusive Parents, Angst, Child Abuse, Homophobic Language, Keith Tkachuk's A+ Parenting, M/M, Sort of slut shaming, Whump, canon typical injury, text messages in my fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:13:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,820</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25691680</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/tillyenna/pseuds/tillyenna</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>TRIGGER WARNING: This fic contains both a parenting being verbally abusive towards their adult child and a parent expressing homophobic ideas and language towards their adult child.<br/>It also contains reference to a real life injury.<br/>It also contains some unintentional slut shaming.</p>
<p>It's not a pretty fic. It made me cry. I'm sorry</p>
<p>The prompt for this week's weekly challenge was "You come to my room and wake me up at 4am to cuddle?" which, like super fluffy non? So I wrote the most angsty thing that could have ever happened</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Actual summary: Matty Tkachuk is feeling very bad after the hit on Mark Scheifele, he just wants a cuddle, but everyone assumes he wants to bang.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alex DeBrincat/Dylan Strome, Brock Boeser/Elias Pettersson, Matthew Tkachuk &amp; Brady Tkachuk, Matthew Tkachuk &amp; Noah Hanifin, Matthew Tkachuk/Everyone, Matthew Tkachuk/Johnny Gadreau</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>107</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Jacob have I loved, but Esau have I hated.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>TRIGGER WARNING: This fic contains both a parenting being verbally abusive towards their adult child and a parent expressing homophobic ideas and language towards their adult child.<br/>It also contains reference to a real life injury.<br/>It also contains some unintentional slut shaming.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s habit to leave his phone at the hotel during games. Too many games where he’d been tempted and checked his phone in between periods – he doesn’t make that mistake anymore. He gets through his media, mouth dry, pulse racing, and heads back to the hotel.</p>
<p>As soon as he gets back to his room, he checks it however, checking the messages from Brady first as he always does.</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>&gt;GOOD LUCK RATTY!!! WE LOVE YOU</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;T and I are watching with mom and gonna cheer you on</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;FUCK</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;Pro tip. Don’t check your messages from Dad</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;HA. Don’t pick fights with my bro Wheels. You ain’t gonna win</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;OK. I think Dad’s stopped watching</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;BOOOO</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;ooof, nice wrister. Shame ☹</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;AHHHHHH YOUR BOY JOHNNY!!!!!!</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;Good win Matty :D</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;wtaf??? Jets are saying it was intentional?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;FUCK OFF was that intentional!</em>
</p>
<p>There aren’t any more texts from Brady, so he switches over to Taryn’s messages</p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>&gt;GOOD LUCK BIG BRO.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;Brades gonna live text you so I won’t.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;OK. So I’ve had to stop Brady from trying to get on a plane to go and fight literally everyone who’s calling you a dirty player</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;You aren’t a dirty player Matty</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;You’re our Ratty Matty and we love you</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;We know that wasn’t intentional</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;Shit happens in hockey</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;Don’t tell Dad I said that</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;Also don’t check your messages from dad</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;Like, maybe just delete them</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;Love you.</em>
</p>
<p>He calls Brady on the way down to dinner, thank fuck they’re eating early because he’s starving after the game.</p>
<p>“You’re not a dirty player.” Is the first thing Brady says when he answers the phone.</p>
<p>“I know.” Matty hadn’t realised how dry his throat was before he’d tried to speak. “Like, I feel fucking awful though Brades.”</p>
<p>“Shit happens. Accidents happen Matty – it’s a part of the game.”</p>
<p>“I know.” He gives a sigh, he knew calling Brady would help, calling Brady always helps. “Wish you were here.” He says softly.</p>
<p>Brady gives a burst of laughter, “Not as much as I fucking do. Seriously, watching you play while I’m stuck at home is the worst.”</p>
<p>“Hey!” Comes Taryn’s voice in the background, “Being stuck with me is a delight.”</p>
<p>“Wanna speak to Tar?” Brady asks him.</p>
<p>“Sure.” Matty doesn’t really – he always feels he has to hold it together more for Taryn than he does for Brady. He and Brady are so close in age, he can lean on Brady a bit more, but Taryn’s the baby.</p>
<p>“It was a clean hit.” Taryn tells him as soon as Brady hands the phone over. “Like, I’ve watched a million replays, it was clean.”</p>
<p>“I know.” Matty tells her, “Like, I did it. I know it was clean.”</p>
<p>“I just…” She sounds angry, frustrated, just like the rest of them, “How can they say it was fucking intentional,”</p>
<p>“TARYN!” Comes their mothers’ voice in the background.</p>
<p>“Oops,” She carries on, utterly unabashed, “It wasn’t flipping intentional though, you don’t do shit like that.”</p>
<p>“I know.” Matty repeats, “Look.” He suddenly can’t deal with another moment of his siblings being angry on his behalf, anger isn’t what he needs right now, “I have to go to dinner. I just called to tell you guys I love you.”</p>
<p>“We love you too Matty.” Taryn says, “And fuck the Jets.”</p>
<p>He gives a soft smile, “Give Brades his phone back, and go apologise to mom for your language.”</p>
<p> She sighs, but does as he says, because there’s Brady’s voice in his ear again, “Love you.”</p>
<p>“Love you too Brades.” He relaxes a little, one of his thousand shields going down. “I just…”</p>
<p>“Call me.” Brady tells him, “I don’t care if it’s 3 in the fucking morning. Call me.”</p>
<p>Matty nods, not trusting himself to speak, knowing he’s already choking back tears.</p>
<p>“And don’t read the messages from Dad, ok?”</p>
<p>Matty laughs, low and hollow, “I’m not a fucking idiot Brades.” He says, because everyone knows, don’t read your own press, and in the same way, Matty Tkachuk knows, don’t read the messages from Dad.</p>
<p>“Good. Go eat. I love you remember.”</p>
<p>“I love you too.” Matty hangs up as he gets to the dining hall.</p>
<p>“Who you declaring your love to?” Giordy asks him as he joins him in the queue for dinner, “Didn’t know you had someone steady.”</p>
<p>“Just Brades,” Matty rolls his eyes.</p>
<p>“Makes sense,” Mark gives him a grin, “You don’t come across as the settling down type.”</p>
<p>Matty just gives a shrug, so he has a reputation, just, whatever. He settles down to eat dinner next to Ritter and Talbo, because honestly, he doesn’t feel like talking much, and whilst that isn’t his usual style, sitting with the goalies usually makes for a quiet dinner.</p>
<p>He heads straight for the rec room after eating, they’ve got some of the other games playing on the big screens, he’s not super invested, but he doesn’t want to be on his own. Watching the games for a few hours takes him out of his own head a little, but not enough, and if the others notice he’s quiet, they don’t say anything.</p>
<p>Still, eventually he has to head to bed, and he lies awake for at least an hour before he gives in and checks his messages again. He knew he shouldn’t have, but he can’t help himself.</p>
<p>He closes out of his messages angrily, and then, opens them up again to message Jonny</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>&gt;Can I come to you?</em>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;Matty…babes… I’m not feeling it tonight</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;Like, I’m beat after that game yknow?</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;Tomorrow night instead 😉</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>&gt;sure</em>
</p>
<p>And it’s not like he didn’t expect it, he and Jonny aren’t like, a thing, it’s just he hooks up with Jonny more than he hooks up with anyone else, so Jonny’s always his first call. Still, he has other options, he’s Matthew fucking Tkachuk, he’s got options in practically every team in the league</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <em>&lt;&lt;debrincat&gt;&gt;</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>&gt;You fancy company tonight?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>&gt;Chucky! Like no!</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;We’re not supposed to be fraternising with other teams</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;ALSO UNLIKE YOU I HAVE A BOYFRIEND</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;WHO IS HERE WITH ME RIGHT NOW</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>&gt;*shrug* just asking, y’know</em>
</p>
<p>So Alex is off the table, but there are other team USA teammates he can go to.</p>
<p>
  <em>  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>&lt;&lt;boes&gt;&gt;</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>&gt;Fancy any company tonight?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>&gt;Chucky 😉</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;You know I’d love to</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;But Eli and I are trying the monogamy thing</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>&gt;Dude! That’s big</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;Like congrats!!!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>&gt;ty x</em>
</p>
<p>That’s a pretty solid end to the conversation. He’s sat on his bed, knee bouncing up and down as he scrolls through his contacts, trying to work out who would still be awake, Schmaltzy doesn’t answer his text, so he guesses he’s out for the count, he doesn’t know anyone on the wild, so he doesn’t even bother.</p>
<p>He tries reading for a bit, tries having the TV on, but every time he closes his eyes he sees Scheifele limping off the ice, feels the push away when he’d tried to check on him, hears Paul fucking Maurice in his head.</p>
<p>He gives up after a while, and wonders down the corridor. There’s no lights on that he can see, but he knocks on Cam’s door first.</p>
<p>“Fuck, Chucky…” Cam opens the door looking sleepy, “You can’t be here.”</p>
<p>“Sorry.” Matty’s biting on his lip, “Can’t sleep.”</p>
<p>“Kelly will kill me.” Cam tells him, “Like, sorry,” He pulls Matty into a quick hug, “I’d let you stay if you could, but like, y’know how that looks, right?”</p>
<p>Matty gives a shrug, and walks away without any further word, and Cam shuts the door, presumably to fall back into bed.</p>
<p>Ritter doesn’t answer the door, but then again, he sleeps like the dead. Matty almost contemplates walking back to his own room but as he does, he passes Hanny’s door, and almost on a whim, he knocks.</p>
<p>Hanny opens it, looking as sleepy as Cam, but even more confused. “Matty?”</p>
<p>“Hi,” Matty gives him an awkward wave, “Was wondering if you minded having company….”</p>
<p>Hanny frowns, “You know, I’m like… not into that right Matty?”</p>
<p>“Fuck,” Matty swears, staring up at the ceiling, desperately willing the tears away. “Why does everyone assume I want to fuck them.”</p>
<p>Hanny shrugs, “I mean, you do have a reputation bud, you’re honestly expecting me to believe that you’ve come to my room and woken me up at…” he checks his watch, “4am, for a cuddle?</p>
<p>Matty shrugs, “I mean. Yes?”</p>
<p>Hanny gives a soft huff of laughter, “Come in then,” he steps aside, letting Matty into his room and leading him towards the bed. “What’s up Chuck?”</p>
<p>Matty shrugs, and then, adds softly, “Scheifele.”</p>
<p>“It was a clean hit.” Noah pulls him into his arms, pressing his nose into Matty’s curls.</p>
<p>“He’s saying it was intentional.”</p>
<p>Hanny shakes his head softly, “What the fuck does it matter what the fucking Jets coach thinks of you.”</p>
<p>“Not him.” Matty’s voice is breaking again, the tears threatening. He doesn’t want to speak, doesn’t want to show Hanny how much he’s hurting. Instead, he just hands his phone over, messages open.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>&lt;&lt;dad&gt;&gt;</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>&gt;FUCKING HELL MATTHEW</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;What the ever loving fuck was that????</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;You realise you’ve probably ended his career</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;Scheifs a good kid</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;And you’ve gone and intentionally ruined his career</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;Because you can’t face him in a game that isn’t even real playoffs</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;You know what</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;I hope your faggy ass does find someone to marry</em>
  <br/>
  <em>&gt;So I don’t have to see dirty plays like that being done by someone in a shirt with my name on</em>
</p>
<p>“Shit.” Noah puts the phone down, deliberately out of Matty’s reach. “He’s not…”</p>
<p>Matty gives a hollow laugh, “What, you gonna say what he thinks doesn’t matter?” He shakes his head, “Or that he knows nothing about hockey?”</p>
<p>Noah doesn’t say anything, just holding Matty closer.</p>
<p>“Thirteen years and damn near 90 playoff games.” Matty quotes, “And yes, what he thinks fucking matters to me, it always fucking does and I wish it didn’t.” The tears are flowing freely now and he can’t stop them, rolling down his cheeks, betraying him as always. He can almost hear his dad in the back of his mind, laughing at him because ‘little sissy Matthew’s crying, again’.</p>
<p>He blinks furiously, wiping away his tears. “I didn’t mean to do it.”</p>
<p>“I know.” Hanny says softly, pressing a kiss into Matty’s curls, “I know, and the team knows, and Brady knows.”</p>
<p>“Just…” Words aren’t going to help now, because logically, he knows that the people who really matter believe him, and that whatever he did, it was never going to please his dad, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Just because he knows his dad’s never going to be nice, doesn’t mean every barb he makes doesn’t cut Matty deeper than anything else. “Hold me.” He says eventually.</p>
<p>“Ok.” Hanny whispers softly, wrapping his arms around Matty, and holding him close as his teammate cries himself to sleep.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Honestly, come over to my twitter and yell with me about how that wasn't an intentional hit, it didn't even look like an intentional hit and if the hit had come from ANYONE OTHER THAN MATTY, nothing would have come of it, but his Dad has basically spread around the league that he's some kind of dirty player &gt;:( </p>
<p>Ugh, so many matty feels. Someone give him a cuddle (and a shave... jk... I love the flame beard, it's trash and delicious)</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/blog/princesstillyenna">@princesstillyenna</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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